


The Gang Goes Trick-or-Treating

by Arcwin



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bombs, Candy thievery, Earth, Gen, Halloween, Post-Movie: Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, Rocket always chooses trick, Spooky stories, Trick or Treating, haunted hayride, unspoken thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 17:14:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16412567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcwin/pseuds/Arcwin
Summary: As Peter flips the calendar over to October, a thought hits him. He hasn’t been home to Earth since...well. He hasn’t been home to Earth, and he missed his last Halloween there because Yondu and the Ravagers picked him up less than a week beforehand, the a-holes. He was gonna be Freddy Krueger, had already bought the costume and everything. Shit.Rating for language.A quick Halloween drabble for a monthly prompt I do! The Guardians of the Galaxy go to Earth for Halloween, and a tremendous amount of confusion and hilarity naturally ensues.





	The Gang Goes Trick-or-Treating

As Peter flips the calendar over to October, a thought hits him. He hasn’t been home to Earth since... _well_ . He hasn’t been home to Earth, and he missed his last Halloween there because Yondu and the Ravagers picked him up less than a week beforehand, the a-holes. He was gonna be Freddy Krueger, had already bought the costume and everything. _Shit_.

“Let’s visit Earth,” he announces to no one in particular as he searches the pantry for a snack. He comes up empty-handed and glares at Rocket, who ignores him.

In fact, everyone ignores him except Drax, who stares without blinking for far too long before finally saying, “Why would you want to visit your homeworld? I thought it was destroyed.”

“What? No, it’s not destroyed. Why would you think that?” Peter demands, irritated.

“Because you said there was nothing there for you anymore,” Drax states with a shrug.

“Yeah but I...you know what, nevermind. It’s _not_ destroyed. We’re going.”

At this, Rocket looks up from the bomb he’s tinkering with and sneers, “Why?”

“Because I said so, asshole,” Starlord snarks. “And my favorite holiday is coming up.”

“I am Groot.”

Rocket looks over at his friend and answers, “Why does it matter what holiday it is, Groot? Earth is boring, and the people would probably freak out if they saw any one of us. Although, now that I think about it...going to Earth sounds fun! Let’s go freak out all the little people!”

“Can you _not_ be a douchebag?”

“Probably not,” Rocket answers with a shrug before going back to the bomb he’s working on, a single grubby paw reaching into the last bag of chips from the pantry. He pops it in his mouth and throws a toothy grin at Peter, who scowls and stalks off.

Peter goes to the helm of the Milano and plops down into his seat, yanking the coordinates screen over to him to start entering the information for Earth. His chest flutters as he finalizes the route and sees a familiar blue orb at the end of it. Drax doesn’t know what he’s talking about. It’s gonna be a good time. Right? He hopes Gamora doesn’t give him too many pitying looks once she finds out what they’re doing.

It’s probably the best time of year to bring a bunch of fucking weird looking aliens to his home planet. Drax is right--Earthers have hang-ups. A sentient tree and talking, murderous raccoon would not go over well at _any_ other time of year.

But Halloween. _Halloween._ It’s his favorite holiday for a lot of reasons, and he can’t wait to bring _his_ bunch of weird aliens to go experience it like a true Earther. Haunted hayrides, spooky stories around a campfire, costumes and fake blood and trick-or treating.

The worst that could happen is…not something he wants to try to imagine right now. So he sets the coordinates, pops open a beer, and kicks back in his pilot chair for the ride.

Some indeterminate amount of time passes and Peter realizes he’s dozing when Gamora startles him awake with a, “Earth? Really?”

Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he sputters and coughs and drops his beer bottle. “Uh...yeah,” he says as he bends to pick it up. He avoids Gamora’s eyes and spins his chair to the windshield, tapping absentmindedly on the navigation screen.

“Peter,” she starts with a hand on his shoulder, her voice exactly as soft and pitying as Peter expected. He blinks again a few times and yawns, not bothering to answer her. She sighs, patting his shoulder, then takes her seat behind him and props her feet up on the back of his chair. “How much longer?” she finally asks, trying to sound nonchalant. She fails at it and Peter smiles to himself, happy she gave it some effort regardless.

“Not much,” he replies as they pass Saturn. The rings seem to sparkle in the sunlight, casting reflections onto the ship and shining right in Peter’s eyes. He winces and turns away, catching sight of Gamora behind him, reclined in her seat. The patterns of light dapple her green skin, creating the illusion of false imperfections across her cheeks. The shadows dance over her face, and she smiles as she catches him looking at her. So much for an unspoken thing.

A bit of time passes, and finally a familiar blue orb comes into view. Drax enters the cockpit of the Milano, leaning against Peter’s chair as he stares at the planet. “It’s tiny,” he comments as they fly past the Moon.

“That’s the Moon. It’s not supposed to be huge,” Peter replies.

“The Moon? Your planet has another, smaller planet following it around?” Drax asks, confused. “But, it’s so insignificant! How did it capture another planet?”

“It’s not that small.”

Behind him, Gamora bites back a laugh. “It’s pretty small, Peter.”

Rocket bounds up to the other Captain’s chair, throwing his hands up and barking out, “Wait, wait. Are we talking about the size of Quill’s--”

“No! Shut up! We are talking about--” Peter shouts over the raccoon.

“We’re talking about his _tiny_ planet,” Drax adds to the mix, which only serves to make Rocket laugh louder. The sound fills the cockpit as Drax and Gamora join him in cackling at the joke while Peter sulks and focuses on ignoring him as much as he can. _Jerks._

“Okay, a-holes, we are gonna have to be stealthy once we land. Earth hasn’t met any aliens yet, so you can’t go talking about all the weird shit you do,” Peter instructs them as their laughter dies down. “Just...remember that it’s a holiday, and that even though people are dressed up, that doesn’t mean you can...you know.”

“What?” Drax asks ignorantly.

“I am Groot?”

Rocket laughs hysterically, a tear streaming down his face as he chokes out, “We should _definitely_ do all of that!”

“Wait, wait. I don’t know what you said, but don’t do **any** of it!” Starlord argues, shaking his head while waving his arms. “Now, shut your pie holes and let me land this thing.”

Maneuvering the Milano is something Peter does with style, even though Rocket spends every second insulting him while he does it. Before long, the ship is comfortably nestled in a dense thicket of pine trees, and the crew prepares to depart.

There’s some arguing about whether they need guns, bombs, swords, and snacks, and finally they leave the ship with a minimal amount of each (mostly in Rocket’s bag, and mostly without Peter’s knowledge). The walk from the ship to the nearby town of St. Charles, Missouri is brief enough, and the moment they stumble out of the woods in the back of a Waffle House parking lot Peter has an extreme moment of doubt about this idea.

It passes quickly when he sees a small collective of teenagers strut by, wearing an assortment of violent and/or revealing costumes. He grins to his companions, who look confused, and beckons them to follow him out to the road.

“Do all Earthers look so...ugly?” Drax asks after they pass another group of costumed adolescents.

“What?”

“You’re ugly, but these humans are hideous,” he adds. “I had no idea your kind looked like this. What happened to you? Did your face get burned in a fire?”

“What? No! Drax, these are _costumes_ ,” Peter explains with a long-suffering sigh. “They’re trick or treating. Remember, I said this was a holiday on my planet.”

Rocket bounds forward and grabs Peter’s elbow, stopping him in his tracks. “Trick or treating? What’s that?”

“It’s where you dress up in a costume and walk from house to house, knock on the door, and say _Trick or Treat_ and the people inside have to give you a treat, or else you get to play a trick on them. Usually they give out candy, although sometimes it’s something stupid like an apple or toothbrush or something. Those are the lame houses. Me and my friends kept a list of them so we could avoid them,” Peter says with a grin. “And then we’d hit them with toilet paper later on,” he adds, chuckling. He catches Gamora’s eye as he laughs and she smirks in response.

“We should do that, Quill,” Rocket comments with a sneer, rubbing his paws together.

“Yeah, sure,” Peter agrees dismissively. “There’s a Halloween faire every year here, though. Let’s hit that first. It’s not too far from here,” the human replies as he watches Gamora glance around his hometown. He feels a bit nervous about it, the butterflies of embarrassment flitting around his stomach. “I want to take you guys on the haunted hayride.” A small part of him just wants to take Gamora and hope that she’s startled enough to want him to protect her. The rest of him knows that this is _Gamora_ , and she’s the last woman in the galaxy who would need protecting. A guy can dream, though.

“I am Groot,” their tree companion comments. Rocket shrugs in response, and the group follows Peter as he winds through the streets of town. Around them, houses are decorated with fake spider webs, huge scarecrows, Jack-o-Lanterns, and purple and orange lights. The crowds of costumed humans grow larger and larger as they walk, the individuals excitedly pointing ahead of them at the entrance to the faire in the WalMart parking lot. Occasionally, someone notices the Guardians of the Galaxy and comes over to compliment them on their “costumes,” which delights Peter and confuses the rest of them.

“Aw, your son is so cute! And realistic! A raccoon? How...unique!” an older woman comments, reaching down to pat Rocket on the head. Peter deflects her easily before Rocket can bite her, grinning and thanking her for the compliment.

“He missed his nap today, so he’s grumpy,” he apologizes, shrugging at his friend.

“What?” Rocket sneers, reaching for a grenade on his belt.

“Nothing!” Quill answers while steering the group towards the entrance to the haunted hayride.

Gamora moves to stand next to Starlord while they wait in line, looking around curiously at the decorations. “What is the purpose for this celebration?”

“Uh...I think it’s supposed to be like Dia de los Muertos, but like...more American?”

She frowns, her hands on her hips, then finally responds, “I don’t know what _any_ of that means.”

Peter stares at her, realizing how ridiculous this entire situation is. “Yeah,” he finally says with a shrug, his scalp tingling and his cheeks hot. They move forward in line and the awkward situation passes as it’s their turn to board the large tractor bed filled with hay bales. “Let’s go.”

Gamora hesitates, her eyes scanning the entire vehicle. “What does ‘haunted’ mean?” she asks, pointing up at the sign hanging on the side of the trailer.

“Like, ghosts and shit,” Peter says, reaching down to give her a hand up as she climbs into the trailer. Nearby, a woman with two small children frowns at him and makes her children move further down the hay bales away from the motley crew.

“Ghosts?” Rocket eagerly repeats as he hops up onto his spot.

“Yeah.”

Drax’s eyes light up. “We are going to be visited by the spirits of your ancestors while we ride around on piles of dead plants? Excellent!” he exclaims, clapping his hands together.

“Achoo!” their smallest companion convulses as he kneels on a haybale, overlooking the side of the trailer.

“Are you allergic to hay, Groot?” Gamora says as she scoops him into her lap. He nods and wipes his nose, looking around at the other costumed patrons on the trailer with wide eyes.

“No, he’s just allergic to idiots,” Rocket answers for him with a sneer. As he sits, his paw toys with a pouch on his belt.  

Rolling his eyes, Quill swats at Rocket’s hand and snaps, “Thanks, douchebag.” He scoots closer to Gamora and rests his arm on the railing near her shoulders.

With a glance at the hand behind her, Gamora smirks and asks, “What is this supposed to be again?” The tractor’s engine roars as it clunks into gear, then lurches forward into a crawl through the beginnings of the ride. On either side, there are exaggerated signs covered in fake blood with statements like _Turn Back Now!_ and _Danger!_

Peter grins at the decorations, the low hum of excitement settling in low in his stomach as he leans in close to his friend and murmurs, “A haunted hayride, Gamora. Basically, we’ll ride around and see a bunch of spooky stuff and probably have someone jump out at us to try to scare us.”

“So is it actually haunted?” Gamora shifts and leans against him, resting comfortably in the crook of his arm.

“Well, no,” Peter replies, shaking his head. He feels warmer as they sit together, and he fights the urge to bury his face in her hair.  

“Then what is the point?”

“Fun?”

“Oh,” Gamora comments, turning to look out at the corny graveyard to their right. A strobe light flashes on the scene, illuminating poorly oiled animatronic zombies as they jerk and creak. The speakers around them crackle, blown by too many years of use, playing eerie sound effects of wind and distant wolf howls. The children nearby shrink towards their mother, clearly frightened, while Drax grins at the scene around them.

Suddenly, a cardboard cutout of a zombie pops up next to Gamora. Her defensive reflexes kick in, and before Peter can stop her she’s standing in the middle of the trailer, her boot connecting soundly with a _thwack!_ The cardboard bends backwards and collapses on the ground below them and the people around them shout in surprise at the green woman with a face of stone who still seems ready for battle.

“Gamora, that wasn’t real,” Quill explains quietly, reaching up to touch her arm. “None of it is real,” he adds as she relaxes and smooths her hair. She looks down at him through narrowed eyes and finally plops down next to him again, her high cheekbones tinted pink.

“They shouldn’t startle me like that,” she argues.

“That was fantastic!” Drax says. “I like your celebrations here, Quill. I wish my homeworld had such a holiday. It would be a spectacle!” He laughs loudly and claps his hands on his thighs, looking at the next part on the ride.

Widening his eyes, Peter stares at Drax and gestures at him to be quiet, mouthing _Shut up!_ , but his blue friend ignores him and continues watching for more thrills. Thankfully, no one around them seems to notice his bizarre comments and the hayride bumps along through the cornfield, the metal of the gears grinding and clunking with each muddy pothole.           

* * *

“Wanna go trick or treating now?” Quill suggests once they exit the faire. He picks at a kernel stuck between his teeth from the popcorn ball he “bought” at a busy concession stand.

“I choose trick,” Rocket replies with a mischievous smirk.

Peter frowns and counters, “No, the person at the door decides. Now let’s go, I’ve been craving some Earth candy for about twenty years.”

“What do you mean? We can get Earth candy anywhere,” Gamora says quietly as she walks next to him.

Below them, Rocket repeats, “I _choose_ trick,” while rummaging through his bag.

“No, we can get whatever aliens **_think_ ** tastes like Earth candy anywhere, but I have yet to see any _actual_ Reese’s Cups or Twix bars. And I’m going to get me some tonight!” Peter asserts while he steers the group through the streets leading away from the WalMart lot. The crew follow a crowd of adolescents into a small residential neighborhood, where groups of kids are moving from door to door. Decorations adorn most household steps, full of fake spiderwebs and ghoulish Jack-O-Lanterns. Spooky strobe lights flashing red and purple splash across the lawns of the houses, casting long shadows from the trick-or-treaters as they giggle and compare their loot.

“That small Earther looks like Rocket,” Drax announces, pointing towards a nearby house.

A very small, fur-covered child walks up to the door and knocks. An adult woman dressed as a witch answers and croons over the child until something changes and she starts frowning in confusion. “What do you mean, _trick_ ? I _have_ candy, what kind do you--”

“Shit!” Peter yells as he runs towards the house. Before he can reach the front door, four different small explosions echo around the yard and smoke starts spilling out from underneath the bushes, engulfing the entire house in foul-smelling clouds of thick mist. From the center of the chaos runs a cackling raccoon with an entire bowl of candy, his eyes wild with glee as he rejoins the group, his paws skidding across the damp grass as he tries to stop himself before bowling over Groot.

Peter follows shortly thereafter, waving his hand in front of his face to clear the smoke while he scowls at Rocket. “Dude! What the fuck!?”

The raccoon grins and hands him the bowl of candy. “You’re welcome! Let’s trick another house.”

“Ooh, let me do it!” Drax volunteers, looking around for their next victim.

“Dammit! Did you steal her entire bowl!? Dude! Not cool!” Quill scolds Rocket, shoving the bowl back in his face. “Bring it back to her!”

Incredulous, Rocket shakes his head. “No way! I won that fair and square!”

“You don’t--you aren’t getting the point. They will _give_ you the candy. You don’t have to steal it, asshole!”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Gamora steps between the bickering men and puts her hands up to try to calm them down. “Guys! Stop arguing! It’s already done. We should probably get out of here, okay? Everyone is staring at you.” She gestures around them, where a small crowd of people has gathered to stare at the smoke billowing away from the house, long tendrils curling around their feet as they stand on the sidewalk in front of it. In the distance, police sirens carry over easily through the warm October air, getting louder as they approach.

Peter’s suddenly brought back to his childhood, racing through the streets of St. Charles away from the police after breaking into an abandoned building. He busted up some windows and looked through the rubble for treasures, finally coming across an old Buffalo nickel that he still keeps on him today. He grins to himself at the thought, his fingers caressing the coin in his pocket, and nods at his friends. “Looks like we got all the candy we need! Let’s head back before this gets messy.”

The group makes it back to ship without being arrested, panting and laughing together with the adrenaline of the chase. At one point it seemed like they would be found out as Drax forgot that they were supposed to be running away and decided to play chicken with a police cruiser, but Gamora grabbed him before he got too close and reminded him of their goal. The man was disappointed, but finally acquiesced and followed the rest of them back to the Milano. Once in the woods, they gather some wood and sit down to enjoy a campfire together before turning in for the night.

“You know, when I was a kid, we would have a fire every night of the summer at different houses and tell spooky stories,” Peter muses while he tips his head back and dumps a bag of M&Ms into his mouth. “I forgot about that until just now. Must be the Missourah stars,” he adds with exaggerated twang.

Gamora bumps his shoulder with hers and smiles at the fire. “Tell us a spooky story, Peter,” she requests, her musical voice lilting over the crackling of the wood in front of them.

As Quill considers, Drax says, “I have one. One time, I was in battle, and I was nearly cut in half. My intestines spilled out of me, and had it not been for the--”

Simultaneously, all of the Guardians interrupt him with shouts.

“Ugh, Drax, really!?”

“Dude!”

“I am Groot!”

“Disgusting, Drax. No one wants to hear about your intestines!”

“You said you wanted a scary story!”

The good-natured arguing of the team continues into the night as they sit around, making fun of each other and stealing Halloween candy from the bowl. Quill isn’t even upset that he didn’t get to dress up as Freddy Krueger as he looks around at his friends laughing. He grabs another fun size Snickers from the quickly diminishing loot in their stolen bowl and chuckles to himself. This is still the best Halloween he’s had. Maybe they’ll make this a tradition. Even if they don’t, it was worth it.

They might need to pick a different town next time, though. Odds are someone in the town will recognize the psychopathic raccoon if they come back to St. Charles.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is my first time writing these characters, so I hope the characterization was at least somewhat accurate. I have a couple of Stucky fics if you're into that sort of thing. I appreciate all kudos/comments!! Also feel free to find me on Tumblr @Arcwin1. Have a safe and fun Halloween y'all!!


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